


Bring Him Home

by Thistlerose



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:39:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2647226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Katniss shot her arrow and the whole arena went up in flames, Haymitch gave himself one minute to find Peeta</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Him Home

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this after the first film came out, but somehow never finished it. Considering the fact that the third film is coming out tomorrow, I think it can stand alone as a missing moment at the end of "Catching Fire."

After Katniss shot her arrow and the whole arena went up in flames, Haymitch gave himself one minute, just _one_ , to find Peeta. The seconds ticked in his head, louder than his thudding footfalls, as he dodged falling branches and bursts of fire. 

He could hardly see, could hardly breathe, but he kept looking. 

Kept calling Peeta's name

\--when he wasn't cursing Katniss or choking on mouthfuls of smoke.

Kept hoping

\--until the last second, when he knew he had to turn back or risk being burned to death - or captured, which would have been worse.

As they flew away from the smoldering wreckage of the arena, with Katniss, Finnick, and Beetee unconscious but safe, Haymitch quietly cursed himself. Getting Peeta out of there had never been part of the plan, but he'd hoped...

His skin felt too tight. His tongue lay thick and useless in his mouth, like a wadded up rag. When he inhaled, he tasted ashes. They were everywhere: in his lashes, in the creases of his skin. They blotted out the moonlight, which was probably aiding their escape from the Capitol, but Haymitch didn’t care.

He just wanted a drink.

~*~

When Katniss attacked him, raking his cheek with her nails, he fought back. He wouldn't hurt her physically, but he lashed out with his words, hurling them like rocks. He watched her reaction as each one hit home, felt an ugly sort of triumph burn in his gut.

It was his fault for keeping her in the dark, but the plan wouldn’t have worked any other way. She was too pig-headed, too stubborn, that girl. Too inclined to thwart people just to show them that she could. They were alike in so many ways, the only real difference being that he knew better. She’d’ve made him put Peeta’s safety first, would’ve refused to cooperate otherwise. And that would’ve fouled the whole thing up.

So he let her have it, and took everything she threw back at him until Finnick and Plutarch pulled her off him and helped to sedate her. 

He sat beside her for a little while after that, watching her drugged sleep while the blood on his cheek dried and flaked. Someone approached him with a sterile rag, but he waved them away. 

She’d never forgive him, he thought. Maybe he deserved it, maybe he didn’t. It didn’t matter. What was done was done, and he could live with her resentment, even her hatred. It was probably for the best. This girl couldn’t afford to be soft, not anymore. They’d tried to get her to play the part of the trusting, lovesick innocent, and it hadn’t worked. Let her be what she is, Haymitch thought. Let her be.

He couldn’t help wondering who, if anyone, was watching over Peeta just then, waiting for him to wake up. And what they planned on doing to him when he did. It would be better, Haymitch thought bleakly, if he never woke up. If he died from whatever wounds he’d sustained in the fire. Better for Peeta. Better for Katniss, whom they’d try to hurt through him. 

_Be dead, Peeta. Please be dead._

He sat there for a long time, trying to convince himself that he meant it.

11/20/2014


End file.
